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tell you the truth ... like the drunk drinks without regret

Look, the night fell on us
the cask of wine is not over yet
a shot of life again, and then
return in search of another morning.
The sunrise is reflected in our fantasy games
images that appear to us and are beyond
confused and go away, leaving only those blurry
of a corner of the tavern where we are.

Who brought me this far, at this locus amoenus
of beer overturned
of young drug addicts who have sex with prostitutes aged
with condom in hand?
Give me the lamp, the candle
want to see him there, out the window?
there is a river. Deviates a bit 'canvas
waterfront, a flower of broom has already blossomed.

Dawn then it is not so far away!
God still has an ear for those who blasphemy!
the clapper of the bell chimes already
certainly will not miss the next harvest. How not to miss Mass
who hates God, but
not finish you off the whole bottle, my friend,
in what I have dipped my pen?
And finally, be immodest,
young lover and back to love, without judgments
as the drunk drinks without regret.

Carlo Guassone

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Apocalyps

Okay. A suitcase and a bit 'hot even for those who are not authorized. In the hope of closing the Lagers the new millennium.
rinchiudessimo And if tomorrow we alone?
Let's say that enough people will be only his own shadow.
And the lost happiness, lost the ability to intelligible, that is nothing less than a memory of long ago. And suck the dicks of other men and women lick the chips and the Pope will be a woman became pregnant by her father and his mother a whore you meet in the evening in the streets of housing. And the moon only one step of many in the infinite sky obscured by gas reactors. It will be the dawn of atomic night.
stattene And you read the newspaper, and you guide this opposition, and you continue with your lifting, and we digress behind fatuous words and songs out of tune. And we'll come gloriously stupid.
And we'll come to cut off their heads, talking to people, to create peoples and lands, and war. But without the first
resource failed. And in any religion anymore.

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intercultural. Hatred and loathing


Foreword. This post is the fruit of the spirit developed after critical examination of cultural anthropology, so I just poured a lot of my emotions. Good for you.
A book review program is an essay by Marco Aime (cultural anthropologist and professor at the University di Genova) on "Excesses of cultures." This essay, as you can imagine from the title, puts into question the policy of multiculturalism and the political manipulation by the awakenings made ethnic and racial hatred . Aime does not defend multiculturalism considering it a way to increase the barriers: the philosophy of taking the U.S. 's affirmative action, or the recognition of cultural rights for some some ethnic minorities, you put your finger on the problem rather than heal the wound, which continues to rinvagare the importance of cultural diversity, the necessity of its distance from the majority culture. So doing, we emphasize diversity, but this can lead to the integration of minorities? About
of cultural integration, I citarvi a step in the book, which in turn takes a funny anecdote of an anthropologist, Ralph Linton. Good reading.

The average American wakes up in a bed built to a design which originated in the Near East. He pulled back the sheets and blankets that can be cotton, plant native to India, or linen, plant originated from the Near East, or sheep's wool, animal originally domesticated in the Near East, or silk, whose use was discovered in China. All these materials have been invented yarns and fabrics according to procedures in the Near East. He puts on his moccasins invented by Indians in the wooded lands of the East, and goes to the bathroom, whose accessories are a mix of European and American inventions, both on recently. Takes off his pajamas, a garment invented in India, and washes with soap invented by the ancient Gauls. Then he shaves, a masochistic rite which seems to be derived from the ancient Sumerians and Egyptians.
Back in the bedroom, took his clothes from a chair to the model was developed in southern and dresses. She wears garments whose form originally derived from the leather-clad nomads from the steppes of Asia, puts on shoes made of leather dyed by a process invented in ancient Egypt, cut according to a model derived from the classical civilizations of the Mediterranean, you put around his neck a strip of bright colors which is a surviving vestige of the shawls that the Croats were held on the shoulders of the seventeenth century. [...]
Going to breakfast, he stops to buy a newspaper, paying with currencies which are an ancient Lydian invention. The restaurant is in contact with a whole new set of elements from other cultures: its plate is made of a type of pottery invented in China, and his knife is of steel, an alloy made for the first time in South India, fork Italian medieval origins, the spoon is a derivative from the original Roman Empire. It takes its coffee, Abyssinian plant, with cream and sugar. Both the idea of \u200b\u200bbringing the cows to milk them originated in the Near East, while sugar was mined in India for the first time. After the fruit and coffee, eat waffles, cakes, according to a Scandinavian technique, wheat, a native of Asia Minor. [...]
When our friend has finished eating, leans against the chair back and smokes, according to a habit of the Indians of America, consuming the plant domesticated in Brazil or smoking a pipe, derived from the Indians of Virginia or a cigarette, derived from Mexico. It can also smoke a cigar, transmitted to us from the West Indies, through Spain. Smokes while reading news of the day, imprinted in characters invented by the ancient Semites upon a material invented in China and by a process invented in Germany. While reading the accounts of the problems which trouble abroad, if it is a good conservative citizen, an Indo-European language, thank a Hebrew deity to have done it one hundred percent American.

(Ralph Linton, The study of man , Il Mulino, Bologna 1973, pp. 359-60, quoted by Marco Aime in Excess of cultures )


Above Today that culture is losing its meaning thanks to the strictly territorial transnational influences, we reflect on what is a continual ebb of other cultures, that is, on what she is a real intercultural.

soon
Lorenzo

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tomorrow ... goodnight ...

... and tell me a little more 'than that this time he went out with, yes, "looked like a guy all right and good" and then you yelled at bassavoce, to suck his penis ... because those were times that came out ... Your talk out of time and space that already touched the supercelestial of jobs that go away ... And I still speak with those who say that it is good that politicians are blacks and young people who are graduates and tanned and well, and know how things are going in the Middle East where there's nothing to eat and to understand there was never a dried fig ... and talk of your eighteen years and what you see among the people around you and look at you and you're offered a drink from behind the glass of their canes phrases and respectability ... and still wonder if it is true that there is a God and there is a church and if it is more correct to speak of cash and stock, or if there is still at stake and a great idea or just to die for ...... and while you earn travel time on a strange machine that I'm here, with the My uniformly accelerated motion in search of a current speed that not even a camera or a professor of physics able to theorize, but January is already over, another month started, and already can see another day, another sun or maybe just another night, another frost and possibly snow and talk ...... which is in the cold city streets less among those covered by the breasts of the arcades and shops where they exit from the bourgeois-proletarian committed to give bread to a singer or a bum ... And you tell me the business plan of the premises and never too full and glen of that grant that made you exceed the limit of alcohol in the veins that stopicciano within you to carry the liquid and then dispose of it and escaped a fine suit of blue overalls of the workers is not, can not live in a mortar and is a puppet of the country jail where you can not kill your vital organs ... or touch her ass and my dick to another man without that does not arouse the malevolent gaze of a believer, or the annoyance of a lover ... and talk of a tomorrow and a Saturday and forgotten forever today, of now, the time and this ... and forget a Disamistade incongruous with the feeling back and smile in front of her and loves her ... And talk of redundancies, and The owners, and industrial and wages that have and those who do not have redundancy, and integriamoci communion on Sunday morning in front of the television to hear two experts speak divorced silly concepts of physical theories that SFOR beyond the physical books of 'AristoteleE talk of Plato and Galileo's ideas and let go, the inertia and galleys ... And let me touch your bottom, and still talk to your body and your skills prenatal, and let me play with it, at least with fantasy, and then go on ... and still listens to a song from the landfill, caught by chance in the cassette player of your uncle or your turntable nonnoe returns to read the subsoil and its inhabitants described by a Russian who now leads me to the Russian, while I wake up maybe I have better things to do than listen to him. .. And tell me again what the fuck you have to do and what you can never tell my grandchildren or my daughter, you do not think there is, but if you're there, never forget, never forget the words, and life of the street output, cigarettes left there in half of the cue of wax from my grandfather, the smoke of his friend's stick, the glass of Glen Grant of a poet, of the wake, the tail of a comet .. Do not ever forget the night, good night ...